Potterwatch
by Alohaemora
Summary: Lee Jordan stands up to evil, with a little help from his friends.


15 October 1997

Lee frowned in concentration, twiddling the dial on his old wireless. Then, holding his breath, he rapped the radio with the tip of his wand.

"…are pleased to inform the public that the Ministry has successfully imprisoned thirty Muggle-borns in the past week alone…"

A surge of anger welled up in Lee. Scowling down at the wireless, he carefully readjusted the knobs and then drew his wand once more, tapping it smartly onto the base.

"…Department of Magical Law Enforcement arrested and arraigned three Wandless in Diagon Alley Tuesday for attempted theft of magic on Imogen Flint, a pure-blood witch…"

Lee swore under his breath and leaped to his feet, stalking around his dining table and coming to a standstill by the kitchen window. From the kitchen of his cozy, one-bedroom flat, Lee had a beautiful view of the rooftops of Diagon Alley—a patchwork of browns, whites, grays, and blacks, punctuated by the alley's familiar cobbled street. It was the same view that he'd had when he had first moved into the flat, two summers earlier…and yet, it was not the same view, at all.

There was a dense mist hanging above the buildings—Dementors, no doubt—but worst of all, there was no sound. There were no laughter and chatter floating up from the shops, no color, no movement—no shoppers or passersby lingering in the streets. In short, there was no life.

Lee closed his eyes, releasing a slow, deep breath.

Then, he turned back around and faced the wireless on the kitchen table. It was now stuttering out some rubbish about "Undesirable Number One" and "the death of Albus Dumbledore." Lee clenched his jaw. Wasn't it enough that they were taking over the country? Wasn't it enough that they were slaughtering and incarcerating innocent witches and wizards, every day? Did they have to hijack the media, as well?

Lee glanced in the direction of his flat's sitting room, where a heaping pile of recent copies of the _Daily Prophet_ was sitting by the fireplace—each of which was as appallingly untruthful as the next, filled with stories about the impurity of Muggle blood and the immorality of Harry Potter.

But the worst part of it all was that some people were actually starting to _believe_ the monstrous, despicable lies that the _Prophet_ and the radio stations were spinning. Whatever coup d'état had led to the so-called _resignation_ of Rufus Scrimgeor and to the inauguration of a Muggle-born Registration Commission had been strategic and silent. In fact, just the other day, at his father's jewelry store in Diagon Alley, Lee had heard an elderly witch simpering to her friend that she had always known that Harry Potter was an evil wizard, and that she was not surprised in the slightest to learn that he had had a hand in Dumbledore's murder.

It had taken a warning glare from his father to prevent Lee from drawing his wand.

Releasing another long breath through his teeth, Lee walked back towards the wireless on the kitchen table and picked it up, gazing down at it.

He had always dreamed of being a broadcast journalist for the Wizarding Wireless Network News, but somehow, these aspirations had ended up taking a backseat to reality. War, peril, and terror had shunted Lee's ambitions to the side. He had settled for joining his father behind the counter of Jordan's Jewelers, showing diamond rings and ruby amulets to clueless wizards and haughty witches.

"…those with any information regarding the whereabouts of Undesirable Number One and his wand are asked to inform the Ministry of Magic immediately. A fifty thousand galleon prize is being offered for his capture…"

Gritting his teeth, Lee drew his wand and flicked it at the wireless. With a feeble crackle and a hiss, it fell silent.

The people deserved the truth. The people deserved to know what— _who_ —they were up against. They deserved the chance to fight back.

Still clutching the wireless tightly in his hands, Lee walked back to the window and looked out towards the foggy horizon. A very real, very terrifying, very thrilling idea was taking root somewhere in his chest, warming him from the inside, filling him with a kind of courage that he had not felt since those evenings, long since passed, spent in the Room of Requirement, practicing jinxes and hexes with Fred and George, Alicia and Angelina…listening to Harry's bold, confident instructions…

Lee stared down at the wireless in his hands and grinned.

After all, if they ever managed to make it out of this mess, Lee would need something to put on his resume.

* * *

"We could do it, right?"

George grinned, swilling his Firewhisky around in his scotch glass. "Oh, we'll definitely be able to do it," he said lightly. "We'll just need a little help."

Lee paused with his own glass of Firewhisky a few inches away from his lips, frowning. "Help?" he repeated. "Why? We've done things like this before—just you, me, and Fred."

George raised an eyebrow. "How are we going to get airtime anonymously without help? How are we going to keep our identities a secret? We have to be smart about this, Lee—this isn't like the stuff we did at school. We can't get caught. The punishment will be a lot worse than anything Filch ever managed to throw at us."

Lee stared at George. One of the biggest differences between the Weasley twins lied in their methods—George was a great deal more thoughtful and precise than Fred, who had a reckless streak and preferred to tackle adversities head-on. As a result, they balanced each other out perfectly.

"All right," Lee sighed at last. "So, what now?"

George smiled again. "I have a plan," he said confidently. "Let's wait for Fred to get here before I explain."

Lee glanced around the otherwise empty sitting room of Fred and George's flat. "Where is he?"

"Downstairs, locking up the shop," said George, leaning over the coffee table and pouring himself another glass of Firewhisky.

Lee nodded, staring at the floor. He had always felt immeasurably proud of Fred and George, who had worked so hard, who had put every ounce of their effort and energy into making their joke shop a serious, lucrative business, who deserved every galleon they ever made—and more. But sometimes, it was a reminder that Lee had not been as successful in pursuing his own dreams.

"We're going to do this, Lee."

Lee started, looking up. George was gazing at him, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

Another fundamental difference between the twins was that where Fred instilled confidence and certainty in others through his mere presence, George was subtler—far more attuned to people's feelings, with a knack for saying exactly the right thing at the right time.

An inexplicable rush of hope welled up in Lee; he grinned at George.

"'Course we are."

* * *

16 October 1997

"Are you _sure_ this is the right address?"

Lee gazed up at the enormous manor home in disbelief. The mansion was six stories high, pure white, and gleaming. Its window panes were silver-plated and the glass was spotless. The drive—a long, winding, red-bricked lane, leading up to the front door—was easily half a mile long.

"This is the address she gave us in September," Fred said, shaking his head in amazement, as he stared at the eight-foot-tall mahogany front doors. "Merlin, I knew her mum was well-off, but _this_ …" he trailed off, turning to George with an incredulous look on his face. "All those times we paid for her drinks in Hogsmeade—I don't believe it!"

George rolled his eyes, shoving his brother's shoulder. "It's her mum that's well-off, not her," he said reasonably. "C'mon…"

Still feeling rather stunned, Lee followed the twins up the remainder of the drive and came to a standstill on the front stoop. Swallowing, he reached up and knocked the ornate, silver doorknocker twice against the wooden door.

They waited for several moments. Then—

"Declare yourself!" rang out a very sharp voice from behind the door.

Lee jumped, startled, but Fred and George grinned.

"It's only us, Angel, keep your hair on!" Fred called.

Lee heard Angelina release a sigh of mingled relief and exasperation. "All right, security question—what was the last thing I said to both of you when we met up in September?"

"You told us to be safe—" Fred began.

"—and stay out of trouble—" George continued.

"—or you'd kill us yourself," Fred finished, winking at Lee, who shook his head, smirking.

There was a loud snort from behind the double doors. Then, they swung open, and Angelina Johnson stood at the threshold, hands on her hips. "What the _hell_ are you all doing here?"

"Angelina, you haven't seen us in a month! A proper greeting would be nice, especially in these dangerous times!" Fred cried, hugging her tightly.

Angelina's expression softened. Patting Fred gently on the back, she then pulled away and embraced George. "You're right, I'm sorry. How have you all been?"

"All right," Lee shrugged, casting a furtive, nervous look at Fred. But Angelina hadn't spent nine years hanging around Lee and the twins for nothing; she immediately narrowed her eyes.

"Lee, what was that look?" she asked sternly, pulling away from George. When Lee didn't answer, she turned and glared at the twins. "You're planning something, aren't you?"

Fred and George frowned innocently.

"Angelina, why is it so hard for you to accept that we came to see you because we've missed you dearly?" George asked, sounding spectacularly hurt; Lee had to resist the urge to laugh.

Angelina rolled her eyes. "Stop playing games."

Fred sighed, crossing his arms. "All right—fine. We need to speak to your mum."

At once, Angelina's entire demeanor changed. Her expression became wooden. "Excuse me?" she snapped, drawing herself up to her full height.

"Ange, calm down," George said gently, touching her arm. "We can explain—"

"No!" Angelina cried angrily, jerking away from George. "No—whatever you're doing, you can't involve my mother!"

Lee bit his lip, looking at Fred and George, who, for the first time, looked uneasy.

Angelina's relationship with her mother was something that Lee, Fred, George, and even Alicia had accepted that they would never fully understand. Angelina hadn't even known her mother until she was fifteen; she had been raised entirely by her father—Morgan Johnson, a down-to-earth, hard-working, honest-to-goodness Ministry man. Mr. Johnson had met Angelina's mother—Roxanne Warbeck, a Wizarding jazz vocalist and the niece of renowned singing sorceress, Celestina Warbeck, herself—at a Ministry benefit, and the two had dated for a time until, unexpectedly, Roxanne had ended the relationship and disappeared.

Nine-and-a-half months later, twenty-year-old Mr. Johnson had opened the front door of his flat to find a baby girl on the welcome mat, along with a _Witch Weekly_ magazine clipping titled, "Roxanne Warbeck: Pregnant?" and a small, short note from Roxanne, herself: _She's yours_.

Lee still vividly remembered the morning, near the end of their fourth year of Hogwarts, that Angelina had received a very, very long letter in the owl post and had immediately shut herself up in her dormitory, not reemerging until Alicia had managed to pry the truth out of her. That summer, after a long conversation with her father, Angelina had met her mother for the first time—and she had returned for her fifth year of Hogwarts happier than her friends had ever seen her before.

Now, four years later, Angelina was still wary of Roxanne, still hurt by her abandonment, but she was also fiercely protective of her mother, and Lee knew why. Roxanne was bold and opinionated, a staunch supporter of Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter, and extremely outspoken about her hatred for You-Know-Who and his cause. It had taken a great deal of convincing on Angelina's part for her mother to stop organizing concerts and go into hiding. The Death Eaters wouldn't think twice about murdering Roxanne Warbeck—the famous, politically vocal, Muggle-loving songstress—and Angelina knew it.

"Look—Angelina, we _really_ need her," Lee said earnestly. "Can't you please just—?"

" _No!_ " Angelina shouted, sounding slightly manic, and Lee winced. "D'you three have _any_ idea what it's been like—how hard it's been to convince her to—to just _lie low_ for a little while? I'm not jeopardizing her safety, and that's that!"

"Angelina, we'd never ask you to jeopardize her safety," Fred said, looking alarmed. "We just need her help with—"

"You don't know my mother!" Angelina bellowed, eyes flashing. "Why d'you think I moved out of Alicia's and in here? Even a trip down to the market is a risk when it comes to Roxanne, what with Death Eaters prowling every street corner! She always finds a way to spark a confrontation! I'm not going to let you three make it easier!"

Lee stared at Angelina, wondering if she realized just how much like her mother she sounded.

"Angelina, believe it or not, I'm a grown woman and a fully capable witch. I'm not about to get myself killed at the marketplace."

Lee's heart stuttered to a stop. Holding his breath, he whirled around. A tall, dark, willowy woman was standing at the foot of the nearby staircase, gazing imperiously at the knot of teenagers gathered by the front door.

Angelina gasped. "Roxanne—I-I didn't mean—"

"I know what you meant, Angelina," Roxanne said calmly, as she swept down the last few stairs and into the foyer, her resplendent blue robes billowing behind her. "And while your lack of faith in me is disappointing, I don't blame you. I haven't exactly been the world's most dependable mother." She paused, gazing searchingly from Lee, to George, to Fred. "What do you gentlemen seek?"

Angelina's jaw dropped. " _Roxanne_ —!"

"Hush, Angelina," Roxanne interrupted. "Let them speak."

Angelina clenched her jaw and fell silent, glaring mutinously.

Lee glanced at George. George shrugged, turning to frown at Angelina. Lee cleared his throat.

"I'm planning on starting my own radio broadcast," he announced, straightening his shoulders and looking Roxanne in the eye. "A real one—not the garbage the Ministry has been commandeering these past few months. I want to give the Wizarding world the truth."

Roxanne raised her eyebrows, but did not speak.

Fred hastily continued, "The problem, Madam Warbeck, is that, given the current climate, we would never be permitted airtime—especially if word got out regarding our intentions. We know that you used to have live sessions on the Wizarding Wireless, and we were hoping that you might have the connections to help us get what we need."

Roxanne lifted her chin, her dark eyes piercing. "You realize that, by creating this broadcast, you are putting yourselves in constant danger? That once they become aware of your actions, you will most likely have to go into hiding, like Angelina and myself?"

Lee swallowed. "Yes."

Roxanne considered him shrewdly a moment longer. Then, she turned to Angelina. "Brave boys," she declared, smiling for the first time. She looked at Lee again. "Consider it handled."

An enormous wave of incredulous delight swept over Lee, and he let out a loud whoop of celebration, throwing his arms around Fred and George and clapping them soundly on the back. Roxanne chuckled softly.

"Remember—I can only ensure you airtime," she said sagely. "In the meantime, you should be finding ways to secretly rustle up accurate information and statistics. You should put yourself in touch with people who are willing not only to provide you with relevent knowledge, but also to spread word of your efforts."

Fred and George exchanged a significant grin.

"We can take care of getting information, no problem," Fred said confidently.

"And as for spreading the word," said Angelina slowly. Lee, George, and Fred all turned to stare at her. "Well…we weren't part of Dumbledore's Army for nothing, were we?" she asked.

Lee blinked.

Then, he grinned, holding out a hand. "Welcome to the team."

Angelina rolled her eyes, but shook the outstretched hand nonetheless. Then, suddenly, she stepped forward and pulled Lee, George, and Fred into a tight hug.

It was several long, moments before she pulled away, and as she did, Lee noticed that she was blinking rather rapidly.

"Angelina," he said, startled. "Oh, Merlin—don't cry—"

"I'm not crying," she snapped, wiping her eyes impatiently.

"Ange," George said softly, glancing in the direction of the stairs, up which Roxanne had just disappeared. "Nothing is going to happen to your mum—"

"For Merlin's sake—it's not just her I'm worried about," Angelina said gruffly, eyes blazing as she glared at Lee, Fred, and George.

Lee swallowed a lump in his throat, exchanging sideways looks with Fred and George. Then, simultaneously, they stepped forward and hugged Angelina again.

* * *

18 October 1997

Oliver Wood and Katharine Bell lived together in a quaint, cozy cottage in a quiet pocket of Inverness, Oliver's hometown in the Scottish Highlands. Oliver had asked Katie to live with him soon after her graduation from Hogwarts. Always close friends, the two had grown even closer in the months following Katie's recovery from the curse that had nearly taken her life. Despite his chaotic training schedule with Puddlemere United, Oliver had spent many an evening sitting vigil at Katie's bedside, and when she had finally awoken from the coma, he had stayed by her side through a fortnight of rehabilitation.

A month later, when Oliver's older brothers, Neil and Douglas, were murdered by Death Eaters, Katie had duly returned the favor—she had been Oliver's strength, his lifeline, as he'd watched his parents, younger brother, and widowed sisters-in-law muddle through months of grief.

Both Oliver and Katie were very well-known in the Wizarding community. Oliver was Puddlemere United's starting Keeper, having recently been promoted from the reserves. And Katie, despite being only a few months out of school, had obtained a highly coveted position at _Seeker Weekly_ , an internationally-published, London-based Quidditch magazine.

But in spite of their very prominent personas—or perhaps because of them—Oliver and Katie lived modestly and unobtrusively. Rita Skeeter's stupid, tittering mob of celebrity gossip columnists was hard-pressed to catch sight of the pair outside of public events, and even Lee and Angelina wouldn't have been able to track the two of them down, if Angelina hadn't remembered Oliver's address from a letter she had received from him nearly five years earlier.

"A broadcast?" Katie whispered, sounding shocked, as she gaped at Lee and Angelina across hers and Oliver's coffee table.

Oliver's expression was very troubled. Steepling his fingers under his nose, he gazed seriously at Lee. "This is dangerous."

Lee looked at Angelina, raising his eyebrows. "I think that's the first time in eight years I've seen Wood fret about something other than Quidditch."

Angelina snorted, and even Katie had to stifle a giggle behind her hand.

Oliver rolled his eyes. "I'm not joking around," he said impatiently. "Lee, if you're caught—"

"—then I'll be in big trouble," Lee said shortly, shrugging. "But at least I'll die knowing that I tried to do something about this mess we're in."

"Lee," Katie gasped, eyes widening. "Don't say—"

"Why not?" Lee demanded, and Katie fell back against her seat, looking alarmed. Lee lowered his voice. "Look, mates—this is war," he said frankly. "The Ministry—or what's left of it now, anyway—can call it whatever it likes, but this is all going to come down to who's brave enough to stand up to You-Know-Who, and who's not." He paused, looking from Oliver to Katie. "I know what side I'm on, and I'm prepared to risk everything I've got to give others the chance to see the truth, too."

There was a long silence in the little sitting room, as Lee, Angelina, Oliver, and Katie stared at one another.

Then, finally— "Good on you, mate," Oliver said quietly. Lee looked at him. There was a shadow behind Oliver's eyes, and it was not difficult for Lee to guess where his thoughts were. Out of respect for the Wood family's privacy, Lee and his friends had only seen Oliver a handful of times since his brothers' funeral, but now, Lee could clearly see the determination and resilience that the terrible ordeal had left in all of the places that it had shattered him.

"Thanks, Wood," Lee said finally, reaching out and squeezing Oliver's shoulder.

"What can we do to help?" asked Katie, kissing Oliver's cheek. She still sounded a little shaken, but there was a new, resolute glint in her eye.

"We need to spread word about the broadcast," Angelina explained, reaching across the coffee table and squeezing Katie's hand. "And the two of you are—well, two of the most well-connected people we know."

Oliver grinned. "We'll take care of it," he said reassuringly.

"Please be careful about who you tell," Lee warned. "We can't have this information falling into the wrong hands—for your sakes, as well."

"Aye," said Oliver, sharing a significant look with Katie. "We…we'll have to decide who we can trust."

"Someone should also notify the rest of the D.A. at Hogwarts," Angelina said suddenly, sitting up straight in her armchair. "I—I don't suppose we can send them a letter though, can we? Not with Snape running things."

To Lee's astonishment, Katie and Oliver exchanged a smile.

"Have you two still got your coins?" Katie asked Lee and Angelina.

Lee blinked, nonplussed. "What?"

"The D.A. coins," Katie clarified. "The ones Hermione made for us."

"I—" Angelina sounded as perplexed as Lee felt. "I'm sure it's at my dad and stepmum's place in Manchester, probably with a bunch of my old school stuff." She paused, frowning. "Why?"

Katie grinned mischievously. "When I was moving my stuff here in September, I found mine in the pocket of one of my Hogwarts robes. Two weeks later, I got an extremely vague letter from Neville Longbottom, with instructions to a new spell to use on it, and…well…Oliver and I have been using it ever since."

"Using it…" Angelina trailed off. Then, suddenly, she gasped. "Have you two been secretly passing messages to Hogwarts?"

Oliver chuckled. "Actually, it's mostly Longbottom and Finnigan passing messages to us." His expression darkened. "And from what we've managed to understand, it's gotten really bad up at the school. Their mail's being searched, no more Hogsmeade weekends, the _Quibbler_ 's been banned, as well as the _Prophet_ —they're not allowed any real information. Katie and I have been giving them anything we can, but…it's hard. It's a wee coin."

Lee was quiet for a moment, his mind working furiously. Then, he sat up straight. "Have they got a radio?"

Katie smiled. "Seamus's mum helped him smuggle one in."

* * *

"Declare yourself!"

The voice was kinder, calmer than Angelina's—but just as firm, and just as familiar. Lee felt a warm rush of affection well up in him. He smiled to himself.

"It's Lee Jordan."

" _Lee?_ " the muffled voice behind the door gasped. "I—what—" she stammered. There was a pause. Then, she cleared her throat. "Do you remember our first real conversation at Hogwarts?"

Lee smirked. "You mean, do I remember the afternoon in our third month of school that Fred, George, and I charmed an inkpot to hover over your head and spill ink into your hair? How could I ever forget?"

There was a series of loud clicks. Then, suddenly, the door to the small London flat that opened, and Alicia Spinnet appeared in the doorway, her eyes narrowed but her lips betraying a small smile.

"I'll never forgive you for that," she said sternly, shaking her head. "I was washing blue out of my hair for _weeks_."

"And yet, six years later, you spent a month-and-a-half helping me prepare for my Transfiguration N.E.W.T. instead of studying for your own," Lee grinned, stepping into the flat and pulling Alicia into a tight hug. "We're best friends, Spinnet—don't you dare deny it." He paused for a moment, patting Alicia's back. "How are you? I haven't seen you in weeks."

Alicia didn't respond immediately, but Lee felt her arms tighten around him. Then, after several moments, she pulled away. "I don't know," she said quietly. "I just—" she broke off, biting her lip. "I miss living with Ange—and God, I used to _love_ my job—being in Law Enforcement, even if it was just an entry-level clerical position—it was my dream, you know? And now, with Yaxley running things, it's just…" she trailed off, shaking her head.

"I know," Lee said softly.

There was a brief silence.

Then, Alicia gave a little start, flicking a strand of her long, brown hair out of her eyes and smiling at Lee. "Enough about me," she quipped, locking the front door with a wave of her wand and leading the way into her flat's snug parlor. "How've you been? How're your parents? How's the jewelry shop?"

Lee snorted, taking a seat on the sofa next to her. "My parents are fine—and the shop's the same gossip mill it's always been," he said, rolling his eyes. "Mr. Leach came in on Monday to buy a three-carat, sterling silver diamond ring."

" _No_ ," Alicia gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Isn't this his fourth proposal, now?"

"Fifth, actually," Lee said dryly. "And if my mum's suspicions are correct, wife number four has no idea."

Alicia burst out laughing, hazel eyes sparkling. "How awful!" she cried, shaking her head. Then, she smiled at Lee. "It must be nice, though, working at the shop…seeing the same, old faces. It's kind of a reminder that…life goes on."

Lee felt his grin fade. "Alicia," he said quietly. "I—that's actually what I came here to talk about. I'm—erm—I'm not going to be working at the shop much longer."

Alicia stared at him, long and hard. "You're really going to do it, aren't you?"

Lee blinked. "Pardon me?"

"I met Angelina and Katie for drinks at the Hog's Head yesterday," Alicia whispered. "Don't worry, no one overheard us—we basically speak in code," she added quickly, spotting Lee's expression. "But—but—Merlin's _pants_ , Lee! Have you completely _lost_ it?" she shrieked suddenly.

Lee beamed. "You've no idea how good it feels to hear you yelling at me."

Alicia had to visibly fight back a smile. "You're insane, all of you!" she continued shrilly, swatting him. "Completely mad!"

"Well, then, so are you," Lee grinned. "Because you're going to be at the first broadcast—tomorrow, five p.m., my flat."

Alicia spluttered. "Lee, _no_ —there's _no_ way—I work at the _Ministry_ —"

"Oh, c'mon, Spinnet," Lee persisted, nudging her shoulder. "Live a little."

"This isn't third year and you can't bully me into helping you, Fred, and George sneak Dungbombs into the castle under my robes," Alicia snapped, glaring at Lee.

"No—this is much, much bigger than Dungbombs, and you know it," Lee said seriously.

Alicia opened and closed her mouth several times, clenching her fists. Lee almost laughed.

Then, finally— "I hate you so much," Alicia exhaled loudly, burying her face in her hands.

Lee grinned, hopping to his feet. "Well, I love you," he announced brightly, and he was elated to see a tinge of pink creep up Alicia's cheeks.

"Oh, get out of here," she barked, climbing to her feet as well and chivvying him towards the front door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Before she could protest, Lee swooped down and kissed her cheek. "Five o'clock—don't be late," he told her cheerfully.

And smirking at the indignant expression on Alicia's face, Lee turned on his heel and cantered out of the flat, down the stairs, and into the unseasonably chilly London air, filled with a surge of mingled confidence and happiness—and a tiny bit of something more.

* * *

19 October 1997

Lee's small sitting room had not been built to accommodate so many people. As it was, tensions were running high, and the fact that elbows and knees kept bumping and snagging was certainly not bolstering any moods.

At the coffee table, Oliver and Angelina were arguing loudly over the proper arrangement of the phonograph that Angelina's mother had lent the group.

"Wood, I swear, if you move that receiver one more time, I'll jinx your fingers off!"

"Johnson, you've got it all wrong!"

Meanwhile, by the windowsill, Katie, Fred, and George were squabbling over the script that Lee and Katie had written together, earlier that day.

"We don't bloody want to be called 'the Rodents!'"

"Who cares what you're called? It's what you're saying that matters!"

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"I'll get it," muttered Lee at once, jumping up from the coffee table—mostly to get away from Oliver and Angelina, whose bickering was steadily becoming rather vicious.

Holding his wand tightly in his right hand, Lee curled his left hand around the doorknob and pressed his ear to the door. "Who is it?"

"Alicia Spinnet," came the response. "Former Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, responsible for accidently crashing into the commentator's podium during her first-ever Quidditch match and scaring the living daylights out of Lee Jordan."

Lee laughed, opening the door. "You did _not_ scare the living daylights out of me."

Alicia smirked, tugging off her scarf and stepping into the flat. "You screamed," she shrugged. "Ask McGonagall if you don't believe me."

Lee rolled his eyes. Then, he grinned at her. "Hi."

Alicia smiled, blushing slightly under his gaze. "Hi."

"Oi, lovebirds, break it up and come here!" Fred called from the coffee table, around which he, Katie, Oliver, Angelina, and George were all seated. "We're ready to start."

Alicia blushed yet more furiously, avoiding Lee's gaze as she scuttled to the coffee table and took a seat next to Angelina, who was smirking. Shaking his head, Lee began to walk back towards the table to join his friends—but then he froze a second later, as there came another sharp knock on the front door.

Lee's stomach plummeted to his feet. Looking at the coffee table, he saw his own shock and fear reflected on each of his friends' faces.

Then, suddenly, Fred gasped loudly and turned to George, eyes wide. "George—they came!" he croaked.

George let out a strangled laugh and leaped to his feet. "Merlin's beard, I didn't think they actually would!"

Lee felt his initial terror dissipate slightly, as Fred and George bounded around the coffee table and brushed past him. "Mates—what's going on—?"

"We invited a few friends," Fred grinned, already at the front door. "Hope you don't mind."

Lee blinked. "Friends—?"

"Who is it?" Fred called loudly, drawing his wand. George mirrored him.

There was a split-second's silence.

Then, a very familiar voice that Lee had not expected to hear in the slightest declared, "I am Remus John Lupin, werewolf, married to Nymphadora Tonks, and I once gave you and your twin brother detention, Fred Weasley, for charming the suits of armor in the Entrance Hall to trip Slytherins as they came up from the dungeons." Fred grinned at George, who smirked. "I am accompanied by Kingsley Isaiah Shacklebolt, former Auror and secret guard to the Muggle prime minister—recently forced into hiding due to the Taboo."

Fred and George exchanged a bewildered look. Lee frowned. _Taboo_?

Then, Fred opened the front door and stepped aside, allowing two tall men to step onto the threshold. Lee felt a thrill of mingled amazement and admiration at the sight of his former—and favorite—Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He was still graying, his robes as shabby and worn as ever, but his face was less lined—and he looked happier than Lee could ever remember seeing him.

"Hi, Professor," Lee grinned, waving.

Professor Lupin smiled at him. "Hello, Lee. How are you?"

"Excellent, thanks," he said excitedly. "Fred and George didn't tell me you'd be coming."

"I wasn't sure I'd be coming myself until a few hours ago," Lupin said, shedding his cloak on the hook by the front door and walking towards the center of the sitting room. "I didn't want to leave my wife. She's—" he stopped short, turning sharply and staring at the group of people clustered around the coffee table. After a few moments, he relaxed. "She's pregnant."

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie shrieked loudly, startling Oliver, who jumped violently and dived for his wand. " _Congratulations!_ " they squealed together.

"Thank you—thank you, all," Lupin said, smiling happily and accepting a hug from Katie. Then, he winked at Oliver over her shoulder. "Good reflexes by the way, Oliver."

Oliver grinned sheepishly. "Thanks, Professor."

Suddenly, Fred turned to the other man, who was still lingering stiffly by the front door, arms crossed. He was black, bald, and broad-shouldered, sporting a single gold hoop earring. Lee thought he might have seen him in the _Daily Prophet_ , once or twice.

"What's this about a Taboo, Kingsley?" Fred asked curiously. "Are you really on the run?"

Kingsley's shrewd gaze swept around Lee's sitting room. Then, he looked at Lee. "Is this location secure?" he asked in a slow, deep voice.

Lee nodded. "I've put up all of the basic protective wards."

Kingsley relaxed slightly, uncrossing his arms. "Good," he said in the same low, stirring tone. "Because You-Know-Who has created a Taboo, jinxing his name—uttering the full name will instanteously break all defensive enchantments and lead Death Eaters directly to your doorstep."

Lee, Fred, and George all gaped at Kingsley, who looked relatively unperturbed as he strode past them and joined Lupin on the sofa.

"As a result, we must take great care to refer to him solely as 'You-Know-Who' in the broadcast," Kingsley continued calmly. "Which, by the way, I think is a wonderful idea," he added, smiling at Lee.

"I—er—thanks," Lee said weakly.

"'You-Know-Who' has gotten a bit boring though, hasn't it?" Fred said, making a face as he walked back to the coffee table with George. "Let's call him something else—how about 'The Noseless Narcissist?'"

"Doesn't sound evil enough," George shook his head, sitting down next to Alicia.

"We should call him 'Chief Death Eater,'" chimed in Alicia unexpectedly. "That _is_ what he is, isn't it? Let's not give him any more credit than he deserves."

Everyone in the room—including Lupin and Kingsley—turned and stared at her.

"Why d'you all look so surprised?" she asked defensively. "I've been friends with Lee and the twins for half my life."

There was a rumble of appreciative laughter.

"Well, are you ready, Lee?" George asked enthusiastically. "The equipment's set to go, thanks to Ange and Oliver."

Lee blinked, gazing around at his positively jam-packed sitting room—from one smiling face to the next. And then, all of a sudden, it hit him—he was actually doing this, _it was really happening_ —Lee was confronting You-Know-Who, breaking him down, piece-by-piece. And he was not alone—his friends and teachers were rallying behind him, and outside of his flat, there were thousands more, prepared to fight. They just needed to be told that they had a fighting chance.

Lee beamed. "I'm ready," he said, striding to the coffee table and kneeling down between Angelina and Oliver. Angelina raised her wand to tap the phonograph, but Lee quickly caught her wrist. "Before we begin, I just wanted to say—I can't thank you all enough for being here."

"All right, all right—there's no need to get sentimental, you prat," Fred grinned. "We're your best friends. We'd die for you any day."

"As any true friend would," Lupin murmured unexpectedly, and Kingsley nodded.

Lee smiled. Then, he looked expectantly at Angelina.

"When I tap my wand on the phonograph, a little blue light is going to appear and flash ten times," Angelina said, drawing her wand again. "After that, it'll turn red—that's your cue to start."

Lee nodded. "Got it."

Oliver adjusted a few knobs on the receiver. Then, he gave Angelina a thumbs-up, and Angelina raised her wand, rapping it on top of the phonograph. A bulb of blue began bobbing up-and-down on the base.

Everyone stared at it.

"We'll never survive this," Alicia whispered, her hazel eyes wide with worry as she gazed at the pulsing light.

"Nonsense," George whispered back bracingly. "You're only saying that because no one ever has."

Alicia did not look reassured; Lee smirked to himself. Suddenly, with a soft _ping_ , the blue light stopped pulsing and turned a vibrant shade of red—and Lee was reminded inexplicably of Harry's powerful disarming spells, from a million years ago, back in the Room of Requirement…

He grinned, clearing his throat.

"Welcome, all, to the first-ever broadcast of _Potterwatch_ …"

* * *

Author's Note:

HELLO, EVERYONE!

Sorry I've been a bit AWOL lately. I'm back in college now, so time's running a bit thin, but I'm doing my best with the stories that I've promised you all. Malfoy Manor *should* be updated this week, and I have plans to publish a new story, a 75-chapter Remus Lupin biography, in the very near future.

Anyway, this one-shot is for the Cinema Competition again. The prompt was The Princess Bride: Write about an epic adventure with a large cast of characters. And the optional quote was: "We'll never survive." "Nonsense. You're only saying that because no one ever has."

Now, a few disclaimers: the idea that Lee Jordan's father owns a jewelry store isn't mine. It belongs to My Dear Professor McGonagall and keeptheotherone. Similarly, the storyline regarding the death of Oliver's older brothers belongs to MandyinKC. I cannot recommend her story, 'Pictures of You,' enough.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Drop me a line telling me what you thought!

Ari


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